It's a Girl
by fourteen-teacups
Summary: Is there room for an addition to the Turner family? Spoiler: It's not what you're thinking...
1. Chapter 1

**It's a Girl**

 _A little something that could just possibly happen in s8…_

 _Tremendous thanks to my amazingly patient betas, ginchy-amanda and my-little-yellowbird, for both challenging and trusting me on this one._

Chapter 1

As evening turned to night and Shelagh folded the last few items of clothing from the laundry basket, she reflected that this was one of her least dreaded chores. Folding them meant that the task of laundry was soon to be completed and it was always a joy to tidy the precious tiny clothes that belonged to Teddy and Angela. Picking up a larger item that was clearly Timothy's, she began to wonder what was going on with him these past few weeks. He was staying out later on a somewhat regular basis and the explanation was either extra orchestra practise or some social event with scouts that inexplicably involved the Girls' Brigade, usually over on the far side of the district, nearer to his school.

She voiced her concerns, "Patrick, you don't think Tim is spending his time so far from home so he can get up to mischief where no one will recognise him, do you?"

"Of course not, Shelagh," he replied, looking up from _The Lancet_ , "he's a sensible lad and has a long track record of doing what is right."

"That's true," she agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. "You always know just what to say to make me feel better, dearest." Noting his smile of appreciation she returned to her work with a lighter heart.

xxxxxxxxxx

On the afternoon of the following day, Shelagh entered Timothy's room to deliver his freshly washed and folded clothes, intending to leave them on his bed to be put away at his convenience. _Oh, is this what a tidy bed looks like to you, Timothy?_ Shaking her head, she straightened the sheets and blankets but discovered a lump underneath; reaching in she extracted a winter scarf in a lovely green, yellow and _lavender_ plaid.

" _Mum!"_ Tim was at the bedroom door, his face twisted in irritation.

She turned to him and held out the scarf. "I'm sorry, Timothy, I was just tidying your bed. I didn't mean to invade your privacy."

He just looked at her, then took the scarf and tossed it onto his desk. "I got it from Jack," he said in response to the question she hadn't asked, "remember when he gave me some jumpers and things he'd grown out of?"

"Yes," she said slowly, "but I remember laundering all of those and this one wasn't with them."

"No, it was," he countered, nonchalantly.

"I wouldn't think lavender was his color," she noted. He stilled at that observation. "Timothy," she touched his arm and looked directly into his eyes, "is there something you're not telling me?"

He sighed and looked away. " _Well_ , I _was_ going to wait a little longer to bring it up…" he struggled to get the words out.

"Yes?" She replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

Another sigh, then sheepishly, "...I have a girlfriend."

"Oh," she answered, making sure she maintained her composure, yet relieved at the relatively benign admission. "Well, that's nice, Timothy. What's her name? Where did you meet her?"

"Her name is Debbie. I met her when the Scouts went to the fun fair with the Girls' Brigade."

"That's lovely, Timothy," she encouraged, "When do we get to meet her?"

"You're taking this very well," he said suspiciously.

"Why wouldn't I?" She continued to hold her stance as supportive mum.

"What about 'you should be focusing on your school work' or 'you're too young for this'?" Tim was prepared for the worst.

She smiled her reassurance, "Timothy, you're 16 years old; it's perfectly appropriate for you to have a special girl in your life."

"Well Dad's not going to be this cool about it," Tim huffed.

"Whyever not?"

His trademark eye roll made an appearance. "Either he'll launch into one of his Dr Turner lectures about 'responsible courting' or he'll take the opportunity to tease me relentlessly."

"Tim, you're not giving your father enough credit; he'll be pleased for you, just as I am. Besides, he was your age once, I happen to know he had a sweetheart or two at the time."

Tim rolled his eyes again, then smirked, "I'll bet _you_ didn't."

"I wasn't born in the habit, Timothy," she lightheartedly scolded. "But you're essentially correct; I wasn't as…confident at your age as your father was."

Tim nodded his understanding before asking tentatively, "Are you going to tell him?"

"I really think it should be you, Tim, but I won't be able to keep it from him for long; do you think you can be ready to tell him by tomorrow night?"

"I guess I'll have to be," he groaned, retrieving the scarf and then slumping onto the bed.

"Good. Now put your clothes away and please make an effort to be neater with your bed, dearest."

"I will...and Mum?"

"Yes, Timothy?"

"Thanks."

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That night couldn't have come soon enough for Shelagh. Even though she knew she would wait for Timothy to share his news with Patrick, she was hoping she could prepare him to receive said news favorably, for Timothy's sake. All afternoon her thoughts and emotions had been in a whirl. As much as Tim's confession made her mourn for his boyhood, another part of her delighted to see him take another step into adulthood. Similarly she couldn't help but feel a soft spot for the young woman who had developed a fondness for her son. A giggle rose up with yet another reaction to this unanticipated situation; did Tim really have any right to be upset that Patrick might tease him? Surely he must realise it might be time for him to reap what he had been sowing all these years.

Propping herself up against the headboard, she paged through the latest issue of the _British Medical Journal_ while waiting for Patrick to finish his bedtime routine. Her mind occupied with today's revelation, she didn't hear him come in.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked, with a bit of a smirk.

"No, not really," she said, placing the periodical and her glasses on the nightstand, nearly missing his look of disappointment as he slid in next to her. She pursed her lips and tutted, "Patrick, please, I have something I want to talk to you about."

"All right, what is it?" he inquired, the regret on his face turning to concern.

"Timothy and I had a particular conversation today and he wants to tell you about it himself tomorrow evening." She saw his expression change immediately. "It's nothing to be troubled over," she quickly added to soothe his unease, "it's just not my place to share it with you."

"Then why bring it up?" he wondered.

"Well," and she took his hand in hers, "your teenage son will be taking the opportunity to speak with you and I want you to consider in advance how you will respond."

His eyebrows furrowed. "How I will respond?"

"Well, yes," she continued gently, "Timothy's at an age where our reactions can determine how much he wants to communicate with us. We both need to respond in a way that encourages future conversations. Promise me you'll try to see things from his perspective and remember what it was like to be his age?"

"I _do_ try," he insisted.

"I know you do," she reassured him, placing her hand on his cheek, "just continue that tomorrow night. As long as there are no surprise call outs, we can sit down with Tim after the little ones are tucked up in bed."

"And you're certain I don't need to be nervous about this 'conversation'?"

"Completely," and she followed her assertion with a sweet kiss. "Lights out, then," she instructed, and slid under the bedding.

He turned out the lamp and joined her, bringing her under his arm so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "Shelagh, why is it that you can tempt me with only a bit of information and then let it go, but if the situation were reversed you wouldn't let me sleep until I told you?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," she giggled softly into his chest. "Now, good night, dearest."

With a slightly defeated sigh he kissed the top of her head, pulled her closer to him and wished her good night as well.

 _A/N: I had a lot of fun writing about Tim's first love, but I want to reassure everyone that you don't need to worry about me messing with certain CtM fanfiction canon. This is just Tim's first girlfriend, and while she may make it through to the end of this story, you can rest assured that she won't be around forever...because, as we all know, Tim marries Julie! (If you don't know what I'm talking about, see lovetheturners epic story, Unexpected, and the prequels.)_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It had been a long day at the surgery, followed by the usual house calls, but their family dinner was pleasantly uninterrupted by the telephone. After only a few difficulties involved in getting Angela and Teddy down for the night, Patrick finally found himself on the receiving end of Tim's news.

"A girl?" Patrick smiled, leaning back into the sofa and crossing his arms. Shelagh had been right, there wasn't anything to be concerned about here.

"Stop smirking, Dad," Timothy warned.

Patrick held up his hands in a gesture of self defense, "I'm not smirking," he insisted, yet he realised he probably was. Schooling his features he continued, "Well this is an interesting development, although not surprising. We Turners have a history of being quite charming." He didn't even try to hide his grin this time.

"See, Mum, I told you," Tim announced, and stood up to leave the room.

"Now, Timothy, sit back down." Shelagh interjected as she carried the tea tray into the sitting room, "Your father will make more of an effort to behave himself." Giving Patrick a glare as she sat down next to him, she muttered, "You know the more you're aware of it the less charming it is."

Patrick offered her a look of mock indignation followed by his lopsided smile, clearly aware of the effect it would have on his wife. He was immediately rewarded by her blush along with an exaggerated focus on the tea things. Secretly pleased with himself, but also knowing his limits with both son and spouse, he began to toe the line.

"I'm sorry, Tim, please stay," he said to the lad who had been standing all this time, looking ready to leave if things didn't improve. Receiving an encouraging look from his mother, Tim, somewhat reluctantly, sat down again.

Shelagh finished pouring out, handed the teacups round, and attempted to restart the conversation. "She's part of the Girls' Brigade; they were introduced to each other on a combined outing with the Scouts, isn't that right, Timothy?"

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable before answering, "Yes."

Shelagh nudged Patrick and he responded to her non-verbal cue, "Right. What else can you tell us about her, Tim?"

"Well, her name is Debbie and she goes to Newstead Wood, but she lives nearer to my school." Tim had a slight grin on his face and he became visibly less anxious as he talked about his crush.

"Does her family go to All Saints?" Shelagh wanted to know.

"No, they go to St Anne's, but that's still C of E," Timothy was quick to reassure her.

Patrick smiled as he felt Shelagh relax, knowing the importance this news held for her. What was important to him, however, was for Tim to be responsible and he felt now was the time to address his concerns. "Tim, we've talked before about girls but up until now it's all been theoretical." He watched him roll his eyes accompanied by a heavy sigh. "I'm just asking that you remember what we've talked about and put it into practice. Planning ahead ensures you'll make responsible decisions, son."

He noticed Tim's distant expression and realised he was losing his attention about the same time that Shelagh spoke up, "We trust you'll do what's right, dearest." Timothy immediately became less tense at her words and Patrick, although grateful for the more peaceful relationship the two shared, felt a little sad at the friction that seemed to occur all too often between he and his eldest son. He wondered fleetingly if he could find more information about the phenomenon in one of Tim's psychology books.

Shelagh continued, "We'd like to meet her, Timothy, why don't you invite her for tea one afternoon next week?"

Observing Tim, it was clear he was not receptive to this plan, even before he opened his mouth. "I don't think I'm ready to have her meet _everyone_ ," he muttered.

"All right, I suppose that could be overwhelming for the poor girl," Shelagh conceded. "How about bringing her by just to say hello, perhaps while you're on your way to another outing?"

"Hmmm," Tim hedged and stopped meeting their eyes.

"What is it that's bothering you, son?" Patrick tried to remain composed, but he was getting impatient.

Tim took a deep breath before answering, "Do you remember Colin from Cubs?" Both Patrick and Shelagh nodded. "And his aunt who was a GI bride and moved to America?"

"Ah, the silver Christmas tree…" Patrick noted, then chuckled at Shelagh's expression of distaste.

"Yes," Tim gave a small smile at the memory, then went on, "well Colin's aunt and her children are back here living with his grandmother for awhile." He briefly closed his eyes and seemed to brace himself, "and Debbie is Colin's cousin."

Shelagh was the first to somewhat recover her composure, "What? Colin's cousin?" She looked from Tim to Patrick as she took in this unexpected news.

Patrick frowned and added bluntly, "So she's American."

"What should that have to do with anything?" Tim asked.

His father was quick to reply, "For all their accomplishments, the Americans have certainly compromised their values."

"Their values?" Tim frowned in confusion.

"Well for a start, there's capitalistic greed."

"Patrick, that's hardly an issue to use to judge a young girl," Shelagh interjected.

He turned to her, his voice rising, "Shelagh, you've said yourself our British youth are embarrassing this country as they try to imitate a crass American culture." She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, her mouth a thin line. Patrick continued his tirade, "And just look at the scandals following their celebrities and politicians alike!"

"Dad, you're forgetting; she's also half English!" Tim put in defensively.

Father and son glared at each other. "I'm sorry Tim," although his voice was devoid of any contrition, "but if she was raised in another country, she's more closely connected with their habits and customs."

"Patrick!" Shelagh gasped.

He knew he ought to feel sheepish about that comment, after all, his wife was brought up outside of England; but his anger that had risen so quickly was keeping him from reasonable remorse. Meanwhile, Tim was on his feet with an expression as steely as his own. "You are not free to walk out on this conversation!" Patrick commanded, wagging his finger at his son. Tim set his jaw and seemed to be struggling to hold back a retort.

Patrick felt Shelagh lean into him, her hand on his arm before she whispered, "I think it might be best if he did, dearest; you both need to cool off." Her voice and her touch calmed the outermost layer of his wrath and he waved Tim off with a condescending flick of his hand. He watched gloomily as his son turned and stalked up the stairs; how could he have let the tension rear up again so soon?

Shelagh took his hand, her voice equally full of confusion and compassion, "What's got into you?"

He hung his head, "I don't know," he groaned, rubbing his other hand over his face.

"We deal with other cultures all the time in the district," Shelagh reminded him, "and you're always compassionate and accepting of their differences."

"But this is our son," he lamented.

She reached up to touch his cheek, "Is it really any different?"

"What if we lose him?" he whispered, averting his eyes.

"Patrick, this is his first girl, it's not likely he'll marry her and move to America!" Shelagh's tone was light, but by the way she squeezed his hand he knew she was sincere.

"I suppose not," he accepted with a sigh, "but it's as if I can't think straight where he's concerned. From the moment they were born I've had dreams for our children; but here he is growing up and making his own choices and…" with a shake of his head, he trailed off.

Shelagh shifted closer to him, "I know you're feeling unsettled about this, dearest. It is hard to watch him grow up, and any change within the family is difficult. But think of all the changes we've asked _him_ to make over the past several years." Patrick nodded, Tim's ability to adapt agreeably humbled him.

He listened as his wife continued, "and weren't you just reassuring me a few days ago that he makes good decisions? You need to let him go his own way, Patrick."

Looking into her eyes, he heard his own sentiments reflected back at him. He had been right then, just as she was now, and he relaxed as he focused again on that truth. Putting his arm around her he confessed, "I'd make a mess of things without you, Shelagh."

She pursed her lips, "Nonsense, we're a team; we have our own individual strengths which balance each other out." She rested her head on his shoulder, "But I don't think you should leave things like this between the two of you; go and talk to him before you come to bed."

Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "I don't know what to say…"

"Just let him know you're on his side," she kissed his cheek then stood up to tidy away the tea things.

As he crawled into bed some thirty minutes later he could tell by Shelagh's breathing that she was already asleep. When they were first married she used to wait up, even when he was called out, but Teddy's babyhood had understandably taken a toll on her energy. As he moved close to her she stirred, cuddling against him while inquiring sleepily how his talk had gone with Tim. He reassured her that although not everything was solved, they had made a start. They fell asleep remembering what a good place that was to begin.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Although the high tension of the night before was gone, a slight awkwardness still lingered during breakfast. Patrick attempted to keep up a cheery conversation while Timothy answered just enough to remain polite. Teddy, who had finished his breakfast, was in his play cot while Angela lingered at the table making sure to get every last cornflake from her bowl. Shelagh noted that Tim was quiet, but much more relaxed, once Patrick had wished everyone a good day and left for the surgery. As much as she felt relief from his improved mood, it was disheartening to see the two of them at odds with each other. She prayed it would be short lived. Intent on being supportive of this new chapter in Tim's life, along with satisfying her own curiosity, she broke the silence with a suggestion.

"Timothy," she began, while settling Angela with coloring book and crayons, "since I'm not going into the surgery today, would you like to invite Debbie over this afternoon? Perhaps you could complete some homework together during Angela and Teddy's naptime?" Seeing the wary look in his eye she doubled her efforts, "I do want to meet her, but I don't plan to intrude on your time together." Tim looked a little more comfortable at that. "Although I won't be deterred from preparing a few snacks for your guest," she finished somewhat primly, her formal manner causing Timothy to grin.

"All right, Mum," he laughed, while gathering up his school bag, "I'll ask her."

Smiling, Shelagh saw him out the door, already mentally planning her day. First and foremost she would enjoy her day off with Teddy and Angela, while somehow making sure the house was as neat as a pin. Later they would walk to the shops to purchase some crisps, orange squash and biscuits for this afternoon, along with a special treat for her two little angels, both of whom she would ensure were asleep at two on the dot.

At half past two, she was putting the finishing touches on the snacks, quite pleased with the success of the morning, when she heard Timothy, and presumably Debbie, at the front door. Removing her apron, she smoothed her skirt and quickly checked her hair in the mirror on her way to greet them.

Timothy stood awkwardly in the hall and next to him was a petite brunette wearing a yellow coat, a green scarf and a shy smile.

"Welcome home, Timothy. And you must be Debbie, it's lovely to meet you."

"Good afternoon, Mrs Turner, it's nice to meet you, too," Debbie answered, extending her hand to Shelagh. "You have a beautiful home."

Shelagh shook the hand offered to her, "Thank you, dear. Timothy tells me you are part of the Girls' Brigade?"

"Yes, Mrs Turner, sometimes we join the Scouts for day trips," Debbie replied quietly. Her good manners impressed Shelagh even as she noted the girl's apprehension.

"I understand that's how the two of you were introduced to each other," Shelagh tried to keep the conversation going, "and that you attend Newstead Wood?"

"Yes, it was; and yes, I do." Debbie confirmed. "It's very different from my old school, but I'm getting used to it."

"I'm glad to hear that; now, let's have Timothy take your coat and you two can go through to the kitchen. I've put out something for you to eat; I'm sure you would like a break before you start your schoolwork."

Shelagh watched as Tim removed and hung up both of their coats before the two teens headed silently in the direction of the kitchen. She was puzzled at how uncomfortable they seemed, she felt she was doing her best to be hospitable. But, she supposed, this was all new territory for them and it would take some getting used to. Hiding a grin, she discerned it really had been wise not to introduce Debbie to all five of them at once. Hearing nothing but a few quiet whispers from the dining area, and not wanting to add to their discomfort, she took the front stairs to the first floor. Upstairs she located a copy of _The Lancet_ , along with some paperwork Patrick had left unfinished, and returned to the sitting room. She smiled in the direction of the kitchen table and sat herself at the furthest end of the sofa in order to give them a bit of privacy.

Shelagh tried to concentrate on her own work, she really didn't want to be eavesdropping on Tim and his girl, but it was difficult to block them out completely. With their conversation fading in and out in the background, she reflected that Debbie's mother had done a more than respectable job of raising her; proper behavior and suitable social graces were both apparent. Tim and Debbie were now talking about the latest picture they wanted to see at the cinema and they took turns describing and commiserating about their toughest teachers, laughing quietly together. Shelagh couldn't help but wonder how much schoolwork, if any, they would actually complete today. When Debbie spoke, Shelagh heard both London and America represented in her accent but thankfully very little unpleasant American slang. Her heart stopped in her chest at one point, however, when she heard Debbie make a teasing remark about Timothy's _pants_ ; it started beating again when she realised she was only using the American word for _trousers_. Breathing a sigh of relief, she checked her watch and noted that naptime was nearing its end. Timothy must have been keeping an eye on the time as well because she could now hear the adolescent pair beginning to clear away their things. Within moments they had bid Shelagh a polite farewell and were out the door on their way to Debbie's bus stop.

As Shelagh tidied the kitchen to her standards, she put the kettle on in the hope of a quick cup of tea before Angela or Teddy woke. She reflected that overall she was pleased with Debbie, then reminded herself that she shouldn't be surprised, Timothy had always chosen his friends wisely. Shelagh was just sitting down with her tea when Timothy returned and she beckoned him to join her, "We have a few more minutes to ourselves dearest, no one has cried out yet."

He grinned and settled into a chair, then asked cautiously, "So what did you think?"

"I thought she was lovely, Timothy. Only a bit quiet." She pushed the bowl with the leftover crisps toward him.

He exhaled with relief. "We were both really nervous," he admitted.

"I could tell; but you needn't have been."

"Mum!" Tim rolled his eyes, "I've never brought a girl home before!"

"I suppose not, but I was the only one here," she reasoned. Her glasses steamed up momentarily as she took a sip of tea.

"Just give us some time," he said, helping himself to a few crisps. "So you liked her?"

"I did, Timothy, she was very sweet."

"What about Dad?" Tim's brow furrowed as he spoke.

"Your father will come round; it just takes him a wee bit longer to get used to things," Shelagh soothed.

Tim sighed, "You don't even understand why she's back here in London."

"No, we don't," Shelagh was beginning to see that they might be missing something, "and we won't unless you tell us, Timothy," she added gently.

He looked down at his lap and sighed again. "Her father is poorly. He still struggles from his time in the war. They call it Battle Fatigue over there." He looked up then, and she could see the empathy in his eyes.

"Oh, Timothy…" Shelagh's hand went to her mouth as her own forehead creased with unease.

"He's been hospitalized," he continued, "and he is getting well; her mum just needed the support from her family here."

"Of course she would," Shelagh sympathized.

"They're living with Debbie's gran, and Colin's mum has been a big help with her younger brothers." Tim's face was etched with concern and Shelagh saw in that moment how grown up he had become; his capacity to care had extended beyond himself, even beyond his own family.

She touched his arm, "Timothy, I'm so sorry." He tightened his jaw, but nodded. "When is the next time you plan to see her? I'll set to baking and send something with you for her family." Tim exhaled a small laugh in response and she saw him relax back into his chair. "And may I share this with Dad, please? He'll want to know."

"Yes, you can tell him." Tim conceded as he started to rise from his seat, but Shelagh reached out and squeezed his hand before he stood. "Thanks, Mum," he replied as he took his book bag and leaned forward to grab the bowl of crisps.

"No food upstairs, Timothy," she told him, accompanied by a well-practised look. He shrugged in a way that reminded her he was still a teenager and headed for the stairs.

As Shelagh watched his ascent she noticed Debbie's green scarf sticking out of the flap of his satchel. "Oh no, did Debbie forget her scarf?"

"No," Tim answered, "she wore the other one home instead." Then he made his way upstairs with a strange, yet contented, smile on his face.

 _Oh dear, he's really got it bad_ and she said a prayer for his tender heart. She swallowed the last of her tea and had just begun to continue her prayer to include Debbie's father and family when she heard Teddy's cries. She quickly finished her request while hurrying up the stairs in order to reach him before he got too worked up, resolving to add them to her more devoted prayer time later that evening.

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Patrick descended the stairs and entered the cool evening air of the back garden. Shelagh was already seated at the small outside table, with two cups and the coffee pot. Magda, before she left, had encouraged them to purchase one of their own so they could continue to enjoy the superior coffee she had introduced to them during her time in their employ. He settled into the chair next to his wife and inhaled the satisfying aroma as she began to fill their mugs.

"One game of Snakes and Ladders, two stories and she's down for the night," he announced.

Shelagh smiled, "Angela loves it when you're home to do the bedtime routine and so do I. I've played that game one too many times this week!"

Patrick laughed and reached for her hand, "It brings back memories, Tim loved playing it, too." His face darkened a bit at the thought, if only things with his son were as simple as they had once been.

He felt Shelagh squeeze his hand. "We had a visitor this afternoon."

Patrick raised his eyebrows, as he lifted his cup, "A visitor?"

"Yes. Timothy brought Debbie by so they could do some homework together." She ran her finger along the handle of her mug, as if waiting for his reaction.

He wasn't pleased with this information and was certain it showed by the abrupt way he set down his coffee. He concentrated on controlling his emotions better than he had the previous night, still his voice was strained, "And…?"

Her words tumbled out, "She was lovely, Patrick. Very polite and reserved, they were both rather nervous around me. But they seemed comfortable with each other." Then she giggled, "You'll notice he's been in his room all evening trying to catch up; I really don't think they got much accomplished."

Patrick smiled tightly and Shelagh leaned closer to him, running her hand soothingly over his shoulder as she spoke quietly, "We need to give her a chance, dearest. He's so happy, we need to be happy for him, and with him, instead of pushing him away."

He sighed heavily, "I know we do; I'm just struggling with this and I don't even understand why exactly."

"I've been thinking about that myself," she answered, then took a deep breath and continued, "I think we need to learn a lesson in practicing what we preach, Patrick. At work we accept diversity and help our patients cope with change every day, but if we can't do the same in our own family we're not being honest with ourselves."

Shaking his head Patrick groaned, "When you put it like that you make us sound terribly unfair."

"And yet that may be the truth," Shelagh stated simply. "For one thing, I know I care too much about what other people think. I thought I had moved past that, but I can see I want our family to reflect my version of perfection a wee bit too much." She huffed at his knowing look in response to her confession. "And it's not just me, given our own unconventional courtship we're the last two who should be judging Timothy's situation."

"You're right, of course," he conceded, noting her self-satisfied smile, "and the support we did have meant the world to us. We need to do the same for Tim."

She nodded, "And Patrick," she added, "there's something else…"

As he listened to her explain the reason behind Debbie's return to England, he felt a heavy sensation of defeat. Leaning forward, he rested his head in his hands. The pressure of Shelagh's hand rubbing his back kept him here in the solid, stable present but he could easily remember the panic and despair of the past, and the compassion he felt for this unknown man and his family was almost tangible. How could he have focused on differences, when in their humanity all people were the same?

Shelagh's voice broke through his thoughts, "Timothy really cares about her, Patrick; and he's concerned about what's important to her. You should be proud of him." He looked up at her and saw the unshed tears in her eyes as she whispered, "He's so much like you."

He let a little laugh escape at her words, "and that's good?"

She graced him with a loving smile, "It's very good."

Patrick stood up and reached for her hand, then pulled her into his arms and held her close. Their unity reminded him he wasn't alone; together they would find the strength to accept as well as deal with this new phase of parenting. "I need to speak with Tim," he whispered.

"Go on up," she agreed, then gestured to the table, "I'll take care of this."

He kissed the top of her head and she gave him one last hug of support before he went inside and up the stairs to Tim's bedroom door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Knocking lightly on his son's bedroom door, Patrick announced himself and was invited in. Tim sat at his desk, books piled around him, a green scarf hanging over the back of his chair. Patrick closed the door and took a seat on the bed as Tim turned in his chair to face him.

Patrick started awkwardly, "How goes the homework?"

"Fine, Dad," was Tim's reply.

"Timothy," Patrick sighed and tried once more, "I know I apologised last night, but I need to reiterate that."

Tim nodded, but didn't quite meet his dad's eyes.

Father and son sat in silence for a moment before Patrick spoke again, "I have to admit I wasn't being fair and I reacted without thinking."

This time Tim gave him a challenging look.

Patrick took a deep breath and continued, "There are a lot of emotions tied up with being a parent, Tim. And I'm realizing I may not be as open to change as I think I am, especially when it comes to you and our family."

"I agree," Tim muttered.

Patrick rubbed his hand over his face, "In practising medicine I see a lot of pain, some of it avoidable, and my instinct is to prevent those I love from experiencing that pain."

"But Dad, change isn't always bad!"

"I _know_ that. At least I know it up here," Patrick said, tapping his temple, "but not always in here," putting his hand over his heart.

Tim rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his small grin.

"I also know you're becoming a man and that means making your own decisions which may cause us to knock heads for awhile." He held up his hand at Tim's look of protest. "For the most part, I think that's normal, but we've got to find a constructive way to deal with it. That's going to require patience and listening from both of us, especially me it seems."

"You did sort of go on a bit last night," Tim pointed out.

Now it was Patrick's turn to roll his eyes, "Noted. But the bottom line is whether it's about a girl or a Rolling Stones concert or something else, you can always count on me to be here for you. I won't always like all of your choices, and I don't necessarily have to, but I'll never give up on you."

"Thanks, Dad," Tim's smile was more natural now and Patrick leaned forward to ruffle his hair, causing Tim to tilt back in his chair.

"And," Patrick went on, "if you make a mistake, I'll support you as you clean up the mess."

Tim laughed and blurted out, "Thanks for your confidence!"

"Just being realistic, son," Patrick countered with a grin, then his voice turned serious, "Mum told me about Debbie's father. I'm sorry Tim, I know it's difficult for them right now but it sounds like he's getting the proper help." He watched as Tim's expression darkened. "He can recover from this, trust me."

"I know," Tim nodded, then looked up, "Dad, I hope you don't mind that I told her about you?"

Patrick shook his head, "Not at all, son."

Tim ran his hand over the scarf on the back of his chair, "It gave her some hope."

"Good." Standing up, he laid a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulder and was pleased when his son didn't pull away. "So, do you think she's ready to meet the entire Turner family at once?" The mood in the room lightened as both men snickered.

"I don't know, Dad," Tim, still smiling, put his head in his hands dramatically.

Patrick patted his shoulder, "Well, Mum suggested something about a picnic in the back garden, nothing too formal or intimidating. What do you think?"

"I think if Mum suggested it then it's as good as done," Tim groaned.

"Absolutely," Patrick grinned, feeling much brighter now that he and his son had cleared the air between them. "You're a fast learner; that's going to be a big help when dealing with the women in your life."

Tim blushed and shook his head as they heard footsteps approaching in the hall. Shelagh's voice came through the door inquiring if they were finished.

"Speaking of women, I'd better attend to mine," quipped Patrick. He could hear Tim's huff of disapproval as he opened the door. Noticing Shelagh's look of concern he smiled to let her know all was well. "We'll leave you to you schoolwork then, Tim," he stated, but on his way out he leaned back in to whisper, "and thanks for the talk."

xxxxxxxxxx

Patrick eased himself up, off of the blanket Shelagh had laid out for Teddy on the grass of their back garden, and into a nearby patio chair. Stretching out his legs, he was rather painfully reminded how much easier parenting a toddler had been when he was fifteen years younger. Still, he thoroughly enjoyed moments like these with his younger children. Teddy had spent the past half hour patiently stacking rings on a post and then upending it to start all over again. He took time out from this most serious task to occasionally knock down the blocks Patrick was stacking, laughing gleefully at his father's mock exasperation. The two carried on a spirited conversation, one pointing out the names of colors and shapes, as well as commenting on the events of the day, while the other babbled happily. Teddy had then turned his attention to a rubber ball, giving Patrick the fortunate opportunity to move up off of the ground. As he watched his youngest son toddle after the ball he wondered if Teddy would favor football rather than Tim's love for cricket. Timothy hadn't been much bigger than Teddy when the two of them had fashioned a makeshift cricket bat out of old newspapers. Patrick shook his head, now Tim was old enough to bring a girl home to meet the family.

The afternoon picnic, with Debbie in attendance, had been quite pleasant. The two teens were obviously uncomfortable at first, but Angela and Teddy had provided enough distractions to smooth over any awkward moments. Shelagh had fussed over the menu, of course, wanting to provide a warm welcome but had also succeeded in keeping it simple enough to allow for a picnic-style dining experience. This informality had turned out to be a good plan as Angela's, and especially Teddy's, attention to the meal was diverted by the sights and sounds provided by the unusual event of an alfresco meal.

Shelagh had kept the conversation flowing with a variety of questions for Debbie that Patrick would have never thought to ask. Tim must have shared more about his girl with his mother and Shelagh had always been a very good listener. Patrick was little sheepish for not having thought ahead, but he felt he made up for it by chiming in when he could. For someone who was used to talking to others, he was a bit surprised that he struggled in this new situation. It was much easier for Shelagh, he noticed, and he smiled at the thought that, as usual, she was his strength. He had been pleased when she returned his smile along with the familiar sparkle in her eye that was just for him. After the meal was through, she had disappeared into the kitchen, refusing any help with the washing up.

Sighing with relief that his legs were feeling less cramped, Patrick glanced over to the outdoor table where Tim, Debbie and Angela sat with the Snakes and Ladders board, the girls giggling quietly over the game. His daughter had been typically shy with the arrival of Tim's girl, but had warmed to her attentions as the afternoon progressed. He wondered if Timothy had given Debbie some advice on how to win her over, starting with the beloved board game. Either way, they seemed to be fast friends now. Teddy, on the other hand, had been too absorbed in his own little world to notice a new member amongst the family group. Right now, his world view consisted of the ball he had lost sight of and he was working himself up in frustration. But Tim was on his feet and on his way to Teddy's rescue, brushing his hand across Debbie's long hair as he passed behind her chair. Patrick hid a smirk; all afternoon he had noticed Tim's attentiveness to Debbie...taking her coat, filling her plate, helping her into a chair. He must have been paying attention all these years and Patrick was proud of the young gentleman he had grown into. After reuniting Teddy with his ball, Tim came over to stand next to his father and raised his eyebrows in question.

Patrick responded with what Timothy was hoping to hear, "She's a very nice girl, son," and he meant it. Whatever concerns he had held before disappeared upon meeting Debbie. She was clever, articulate and courteous; very well suited to his son. Before Tim could walk away he added, "so are you ready to change your opinion on the merits of mushy stuff?"

Tim's _Da-ad_ could barely be heard over Patricks laughter. "I'm sorry, Tim," he chortled, wiping his eyes, "I couldn't help myself."

Blushing, Tim moved away, muttering, "I suppose you've been waiting years for that opportunity."

At that moment, Shelagh came through the door to the back garden carrying a tray. "Who's ready for ice cream? There's just enough time to enjoy it before Timothy and Debbie have to leave for the cinema." Debbie and Angela began tidying up the game, while the rest of the family moved toward the table, each reaching for a bowl. Teddy gravitated toward his mum and she pulled him onto her lap while handing him a biscuit.

"Shelagh, you'll end up eating a bowl of ice cream soup if you wait for Teddy to finish that," Patrick commented. She giggled and he quickly finished his serving and held out his arms for the toddler.

Soon everyone was clattering into the kitchen with their empty bowls. Patrick cleaned Teddy's sticky hands and face while Shelagh shooed Timothy and Debbie towards the coatrack. Patrick followed, popping Teddy into his play cot along the way.

At the door, Debbie stood in conversation with Shelagh. Patrick could hear her thanking his wife for their hospitality and answering last minute questions about the wellbeing of her family; Shelagh was offering to send more baked goods the next time Timothy brought her by the house.

Patrick took the opportunity to pull Tim aside and press a few coins into his hand, "Buy yourselves a treat," he said, smiling, "now what is the picture you're seeing?"

"Thanks, Dad, and it's _The Pink Panther_ ," Tim replied.

"That's right; by all accounts it's supposed to be hilarious! Let me know if it lives up to the expectation...that is if you actually _watch_ any of it." Patrick winked at him.

Tim turned beet red, _"Dad!"_ he hissed, his eyes darting towards Debbie, then his shoulders relaxed as he realised she was still speaking intently with his mum. But it was almost comical, Patrick noted, how quickly Tim ushered her towards the door.

"Thank you again for lunch, Mrs Turner. It was nice to meet you, Dr Turner," Debbie reiterated as Tim held the door for her.

Then, "Bye Mum, bye Dad," and they were gone.

Shelagh sighed and smiled up at him, "Well that went well...I think." Taking note of his smirk, she added, "What did I just miss?"

Patrick laughed and pulled her into his embrace, "Oh, nothing but a bit of well-deserved teasing. Taking your date to the pictures is a grand opportunity for 'mushy stuff'."

Shelagh pulled back, an uneasy look on her face, "Oh no, Patrick! Why must you embarrass him?"

"It's one of the few rewards that comes with parenting teens, Shelagh," Patrick grinned. Then he brought his face close to hers, their lips almost touching. Just before he closed the gap he whispered, "Let's hope they see more of _The Pink Panther_ than we did of _The Thrill of it All_ last month."

- _the end_


End file.
